


Afterglow

by peaches2217



Category: Vocaloid
Genre: Fluff, I am a slut for post-coital fluffiness, I really feel like this needs more tags but all the ones I've got are pretty self-explanitory, M/M, gay nerds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-29 04:07:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14464665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peaches2217/pseuds/peaches2217
Summary: To disturb such a tribute to perfection was surely a crime. Len, his mind far too hazy to tell right from wrong, did so anyway.





	Afterglow

“ _Len!_ ”

Len had already fallen limp against the sheets when Oliver called his name. Still-trembling hands held loosely onto his boyfriend’s hips as he cried out and writhed a while longer until he, too, had ridden out the last of his desperate energy. Then Len was being suffocated, the dead-weight of an entire person pressed against his chest, his face filled with a mop of sweat-soaked hair.

“ _Len,_ ” Oliver repeated, whimpering softly against his shoulder blade. “ _Len. Oh, Len._ ”

Turning his head far enough so that he could breathe again, Len dragged his fingertips down Oliver’s spine, drawing one last shiver from him.

The presence of air made no difference if he was unable to take any of it in. Relenting to his lungs’ need, he shifted to his left side; Oliver quickly got the hint, and within the next few seconds, he was laid out on his back next to Len. The sudden absence sent an unpleasant chill through Len’s body, and he felt stupid for having needed to breathe. But just as he was about to reach out and pull Oliver back into his arms, reclaim warmth, he stopped.

Slits of moonlight slipped through the blinds and cast themselves onto the bed. Oliver’s body already glistened with perspiration and what-all, but in the light of the moon, he looked to be outright glowing. His left arm was sprawled out at his side, but his right arm covered his face, leaving only his mouth exposed so that he could draw quiet, gasped breaths.

And on his parted lips was a smile, tired and soft.

To disturb such a tribute to perfection was surely a crime. Len, his mind far too hazy to tell right from wrong, did it anyway.

Beauty, warmth, light, joy, peace, all rolled up into a single living being. A personification of all that was right with the world, right here at his side, melting into his hold, whispering his name. Limbs tangled together, they held each other until their breath came evenly, until their bliss faded into a cozy drowsiness.

Opening his eyes again was a challenge. His lids had become heavy. But he wasn’t ready to fall asleep just yet. He wanted this to last.

Reluctantly, he pulled back, just enough to take Oliver’s face in his hands.

Oliver’s face had more or less returned to its normal color: alabaster overlaid with a flush of pink. At Len’s touch his right eye fluttered open, and gold flecked with copper stared up, inquisitive. If he’d had any plans to say something, Len forgot immediately. Instead he stared right back, letting that eye pierce into his soul, letting himself become lost. The pad of his right thumb he traced over the scar where Oliver’s left eye once was, slowly, as though fearful the stitches would break at anything more than the gentlest caress.

Smiling once more, Oliver closed his eye and leaned into Len’s touch.

_Wow._

Len again closed what little distance was between them, pulling his beloved’s head close to press his lips against that dampened tangle of flaxen hair. In turn, Oliver snuggled against Len, kneading at his back in a clumsy attempt at a massage. His fingers tickled; Len chuckled and squirmed and brought their foreheads together as Oliver’s hushed laughter joined his.

The chuckling soon died down, and Len was suddenly aware of how terribly he needed the noise, how deeply he missed Oliver’s voice in the moments of silence. So he began to place ticklish kisses wherever his mouth could reach: the bridge of his nose, his cheeks, his right eye, his left scar, his jawline. And Oliver’s laughter returned, all at once airy and hoarse and absolute music to his ears.

Then he ceased his playful assault and, for a while, contented himself to listen. An image of wind chimes on a spring morning filled his head, filled him with comfort. Silently, he prayed a routine prayer, a prayer that he would never take that sweet sound for granted.

At what point the laughter tapered away he wasn’t sure. Eventually a silence settled over the room again, and Len was being lost in that gaze of gold, his eyes, his touch lingering.

A hand to the nape of his neck informed him that he was lingering too long. But before he could act, Oliver took matters into his own grasp, pressing his palm forward and capturing Len’s lips with his own.

The next minutes - or maybe hours, who was to say? - were filled with soft, almost lazy kisses. Their night of intense passion had taken its toll, leaving Oliver’s lips rough and dry and a little swollen, but no less pleasant. Len kept his left hand on his right cheek, but his other hand found its way down, stroking his hip, his thigh. Oliver hummed into the kiss, and Len took advantage of the slight opening of his mouth to deepen the embrace.

But all good things must come to an end. When they parted for air, Len realized just how exhausted he was. He wanted nothing more than to pull his love into one more kiss, but his limbs had gone weak, and he was dizzy, nearly too dizzy to see straight. So he sighed deeply and let his full weight sink into the mattress.

Maybe three heartbeats later, Oliver was securely nestled in his arms, twining their legs together, burying his head into the crook of his shoulder.

Had his head been even the slightest bit clearer, Len would have realized the arm Oliver was laying on was starting to fall asleep and that it would probably hurt like a bitch in the morning. For now, he couldn’t care less. The world around him was fading fast.

“ _Len,_ ” Oliver whispered, almost too low for him to hear. “ _I love you._ ”

What came out of Len’s mouth sounded something like “ _Mmmoviatsu_ ”, but that was okay. They both knew.

He’d get it right in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I've got several things in the works, but I've been suffering a SPECTACULAR case of writers' block. Yaaaaay. In the meantime, I hope y'all enjoy this!
> 
> (Also! I've got my YouTube channel more-or-less up! I've only got one video up so far, but if you'd like to check it out, I'd be eternally grateful! https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCPOiu_zLqP4K35jRj09ZfBw)


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